


Patriot Games

by stealyourshiny



Series: Tests of the Maker [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Assassination, Epic, Espionage, Gen, Political Intrigue, Post-Dragon Age II, Refugees, While Fenris and Anders are away the others get to play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:38:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourshiny/pseuds/stealyourshiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is taking place at the same time as the 4th story in the Tests series. Political intrigue galore. Zevran and Varric are working for Anora in an attempt to find out what exactly Orlais is planning in the wake of the Kirkwall incident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Denerim

“...And the last of the templars were shipped out this morning, Your Majesty.”

“Good.”

Anora smiled to herself and leaned back in her chair. Teagan raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, watching her for a moment.

“The Grand Cleric wanted me to make sure that I re-iterated her complaint on the removal of _all_ templars from the country,” he said. Anora chuckled softly and waved her hand dismissively.

“I will not have Ferelden become another Kirkwall, Teagan. The templars do not have a say in how I run my country, and I will not allow them to build themselves a stronghold here like they did there.” Anora stood up, smoothing her dress down carefully. She walked past her uncle-in-law and stopped by a window, looking out across the dark city of Denerim. It was well past sun-down, and she could only see the twinkling of lanterns, torches and firelights in the windows of the people below. Her people.

“It was pure luck that the Wardens provoked them into coming out of Kinloch. I had been fretting over how we were going to justify attacking the tower when they gave us the perfect excuse,” Anora turned back to Teagan and smiled.

“I understand, Your Majesty, but I worry about what will happen when the Divine receives her shipments of templars. Let alone if she finds out the new Warden Commander of Ferelden is the same mage that destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry,” Teagan told her, his lips pursing tightly.

“I was quite surprised to hear that he was there, let alone that they had actually voted to put him in charge of the Keep,” Anora mused, crossing her arms protectively around her waist. “He seems to be doing fine, however. We spoke at length about the situation in Kirkwall that led up to that particular outcome.”

Teagan did not seem convinced and sighed loudly.

“The mages of Ferelden have been very good about policing themselves over the years, Teagan. I am not stupid. I know how many unsanctioned mages were running around. I know about the Mages Collective. Blood magic has never been a large issue here.”

“What about Uldred’s betrayal at Kinloch Hold during the Blight?” Teagan replied. She could hear the frustration in his voice. He did not like the idea of her allowing the mages to govern themselves and to send all the templars away.

“Those were extraordinary circumstances, Teagan,” she said, patient. Anora walked over to the older man and gave him a gentle hug. “Anders has sent out a general call of amnesty for mages at Vigil’s Keep. The Wardens will keep an eye on those that choose to go. Those that do not go, can be left to their own devices until the templars return. If they decide to cause any trouble, we are not without defenses. Mages can be fought without templar assistance, as Serah Tabris showed us on a consistant basis. We have more important things to worry about than mages trying to build a life for themselves outside the walls of Kinloch.”

Teagan finally nodded his aquiescence before kissing her forehead.

“There is a note for you, it was delivered while you were speaking with the Nevarran ambassador,” he told her, pulling a small envelope out of his pocket and handing it to her. She took it and thanked him.

“You should get some sleep Teagan. I’m sure your journey to the Keep with Arlessa Isolde will require all of your strength,” Anora told him with a mischievious smile. “Having to sit in a carriage with her and Lady Kaitlyn will be very trying.”

Teagan chuckled softly and shrugged. “Yes, Your Majesty, it certainly shall be. I will see you in the morning before we leave if you wish?”

“No, do not worry about me dear Teagan. I shall endure your absence as best I can.”

Teagan bowed with a broad smile and left Anora alone in her sitting room. After the door had closed, Anora locked it, slipping the key into a pocket and opening the note. She read it over twice carefully before tearing it into small pieces and tossing it into the fireplace.

 _A._

 _Have arrived. No sign of F or A. L has not gotten wind of my arrival. Will send more when I can._

 _~Z.A._


	2. Val-Royeux

Ah, Orlais. It was... different. At least it didn’t smell like dog. Though, Ferelden had grown on him a little during his time in it. He would have to be careful here though, unlike Ferelden, Orlais loved assassins almost as much as Antiva. The Crows would have a slightly easier time sneaking up on him here, but they were usually so clumsy he would see them coming regardless, and they would never stoop to hiring an outside organisation to take care of an internal ‘problem’ for them. He grinned a little as he walked through the marketplace. His only worry was that Leliana would see him, but Val-Royeaux was very large, and the likelihood of him running into the little harlequin was low, unless he began to frequent Chantries.

Which was not likely to happen any time soon, so Zevran wasn’t too worried. He stepped into the smoky tavern that he’d taken a room in, passing the bar to go straight up to his room. He needed to make plans.

When he opened the door he sighed. The dwarf was there with his crossbow. Was he crooning to it?

“Maker’s breath, what is that smell?” Zevran asked as he closed the door behind him, wrinkling his nose and making a gagging noise.

“Oil. Special oil. For Bianca,” the dwarf said, his voice just a tad defensive. “Don’t mind the snooty elf, Bianca, baby.”

“You are very strange, my beardless friend.” Zevran walked over to the bed and sat down on it, pulling his boots off.

“It’s better than that disgusting smell that emanates from your leather,” Varric retorted. He continued to lovingly clean and oil the wood of the crossbow in front of him.

“At any rate, I believe I have found something.” Zevran stretched his legs out and reached into a pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. “There are currently four people that are in the Empress’ inner circle. These four people are the most likely to have any or all the information we need for our lovely blonde lady.”

Varric put down the cloth and shifted in his chair, ready to listen to whatever the Antivan had to say.

“Unfortunately, I could not get names. However, I know that two are women and two are men. They are usually very sneaky about getting in and out of the palace.” He grinned at Varric, who only raised his eyebrows at the elf.

Varric looked thoughtful for a moment, tapping fingers to his chin.

“Well, it is definitely a start. Where did you get that information?”

“From a very friendly maid at the palace,” Zevran replied, leering at the dwarf. “She also informed me that the Empress receives letters from a number of people, but the ones that she sees the most sign with initials C.M., Y.C., D.B., and E.V.”

“Is that so?” Varric said blandly. He picked up the rag and started to polish Bianca again. “Any sign of your friends?”

“None of our dear Warden and her brown-eyed puppy. I have heard rumour of the harlequin, but she does not appear to be in the capital at the moment,” Zevran said, rubbing his chin and laying back onto the bed. He held the paper over his head, staring at the letters written on it for a while in silence. After a few minutes the lines began to run together and he sighed, dropping the scrap and closing his eyes.

Varric finished cleaning Bianca and carefully set her aside so she wouldn’t get scratched. “What else did you get?”

“That was all, my friend. At least for today. I’m sure I will be able to get more tomorrow. Especially if I bring some chocolates for her,” the elf replied, smiling to himself. Varric snorted and stood up.

“Well, I will get something sent up for dinner and we can discuss what I learned today over some food,” he said. Zevran sat up curiously then, raising his eyebrows even as Varric disappeared out the door for a moment. He came back in and settled in the same chair again, crossing his hands over his lap and smiling knowingly. It was somewhat irritating.

“You know, I have not been in your company very long, my little furry friend, and I am already beginning to suspect that you enjoy making people squirm with anticipation.”

“Of course, it’s all part of being a good storyteller - timing,” Varric replied with a grin as one of the waitresses from downstairs came through the door with a tray and a few mugs of ale. She set them on the table, took some coin from Varric and left, closing the door behind her.

Zevran stood up and settled himself into a chair near Varric. He pulled the lid off of the tray to find roast pheasant. The elf raised an eyebrow; he was fairly sure the establishment they were in did not serve such fancy food. Varric didn’t say anything, he only placed a cloth onto his lap and reached for the bird, pulling at the leg.

“So what is this information you have found?” Zevran asked, picking at the other side of the bird with his fingers.

“The first of the templars from Ferelden have landed with their message from Queen Anora,” Varric said, licking his fingers. “I have it on good authority that Empress Celene broke three vases and a nail when she found out.”

Zevran looked amused, continuing to eat quietly. In the few months he’d been in the dwarf’s company, the elf had learned that Varric would tell things in his own time, and trying to rush him only made you wait longer. Varric lifted his napkin and patted his mouth with it before continuing.

“When the Divine found out, she broke several dishes and wrote a very angry letter to the Empress. I do not know what was in the letter, but apparently it caused the Empress to break another vase, two plates, and a servant’s head.”

Zevran laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Oh my, how I love Orlesians,” he said, wiping his eyes after a moment. “Their reaction to bad news is always to break things. It is almost endearing.”

“Do you want me to write up a note to our friend?” Varric asked, pulling at more of the pheasant and smiling. This dwarf was certainly an interesting partner, nothing like the other dwarves of his aquaintence. The elf waved his hand dismissively and leaned forward again, pulling at the bird.

“You may do as you please, my friend. Perhaps tomorrow I shall look into your information and you can look into mine?”

Varric’s smile broadened to a wolfish grin. “It would be my pleasure, Serah.”


	3. The Next Step

“What kind of nug-shit is this?” Varric said, the moment Zevran came through the door that day. The elf blinked at him, frowning as the dwarf waved a piece of parchment at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Is it a code? What have you two been writing to each other? Erotic notes?” Varric thrust the paper into Zevran’s hand and the elf looked it over quickly before beginning to laugh.

“Oh, it is a letter from our lovely blonde. Yes, she actually taught me this code when I did another job for her some years back,” Zevran replied with a cheeky grin.

“It’s pornographic is what it is,” Varric said, though he didn’t look as scandalized as he sounded. The dwarf settled into a chair and looked at Zevran expectantly. “What does it say?”

“Well it says here something about heaving bosoms and wet-”

“Not that! The code, Birdie.” Zevran chuckled softly and settled onto the bed as he went through the letter, piecing together the real message.

“It is a good diversion, yes? Anyone who intercepts will think only that it is a racy love letter and will not see anything else,” Zevran said, trailing his finger along the lines.

“Yes, that’s definitely a good diversionary tactic,” Varric replied. “I didn’t know our dear friend was... so... Yes, well, give it back when you’re done. I need to keep some of that shit for later.” Zevran grinned wickedly at the dwarf.

“Will not your Bianca be jealous?”

“I’m going to publish it, not wank to it, Birdie. Get your pretty head out of the sewer.” Zevran laughed again and put the paper down.

“Alright. I believe it says that the last of the templars have left Ferelden, so I am assuming another boat or two will be arriving to aggravate our lovely Empress and Divine. There is also... Hrm. A new Commander?” Zevran picked up the paper and looked it over again with a frown.

“Yes, that took over for Feyar. An Anders, apparently. Hrm. Yes. Here it says refugees from Free Marches and Nevarra are coming into the ports as well, fleeing the battles between the mages and the templars.”

“Hrm. I had heard that other Circles had started rebelling as well. Probably all running South. If they go North, Tevinter would just make slaves of them and Anderfels is an incredibly inhospitable place to live in to begin with after their last Blight,” Varric said, rubbing his chin.

“Yes, I expect we will start to see refugees here in Orlais as well. I wonder how their own Circle is fairing?”

“We’ll have plenty of time to find out. At any rate, I found a lead on one of your initials.” Varric pulled a sheaf of papers from under a book on the table and sorted through them. “Here we are. Y.C. Yvonne Cousteau. She is a Duchess in The Dales, the area surrounding Halamshiral, so very close to the Ferelden border.”

“So she would have to give permission to soldiers crossing through,” Zevran said, raising his eyebrows.

“Unless they were from the Empress’ Guard, or templars, then yes,” Varric replied. “So if Celene was moving troops little by little toward Ferelden, Yvonne would have to have known or been in on it. Some of them may have been her own troops.”

“But they were dressed as templars, yes?”

“That’s the next question, where the uniforms came from, and how Knight-Commander Gerald knew they were not templars and why he put up with them anyway. Was the Divine in on this?”

“Orlais misses being an Empire,” Zevran pointed out and leaned against the headboard of the bed thoughtfully. “And Ferelden is still the weakest country at the moment.”

“Not to mention it’s the birthplace of Andraste and her ashes are sitting there still,” Varric pointed out. “I’m sure the Divine is not happy that Ferelden has more pilgrims than they do.”

“So, we look into Yvonne and find out what she knows?”

“Rather, you do. I will stay here and continue my own work,” Varric replied with a bit of a grin. He tossed the elf a pouch. “You better teach me that cipher you and the lovely blonde use before you go.”

Zevran caught the pouch and chuckled, shaking his head.

“Ah, the things I do for a lovely face.”


	4. Denerim

“But Teagan! It is horrible! I will not let those evil Wardens keep my child hostage!”

Anora closed her eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose. Isolde had come flying to the castle with Teagan after they had left for a trip to Vigil’s Keep with Teagan’s wife to visit Connor. He had been staying at the Keep with the other mages, and Anora had brought back the news that he was alive and safe when she’d returned from Amaranthine.

Apparently the teenager had slipped from under the watchful eye of Nathaniel Howe and his whereabouts were unknown. At least as far as Isolde was concerned.

“Isolde!” Anora finally snapped, and opened her eyes, taking a slow breath to calm herself before speaking again. The Orlesian woman had startled at the tone of Anora’s voice and was finally quiet.

“I am sure Connor is perfectly fine. He is seventeen years old and has been well trained in how to use his magic. I heard that he had passed his Harrowing last year before this mess started. He is probably fine. Now why don’t you go lay down and rest and Teagan and I will discuss how to handle the situation?” Anora smiled sweetly at the older woman who pursed her lips and looked as though she’d swallowed a lemon for a moment before bowing to Anora.

“Of course, Your Majesty. You are probably correct. I will rest. Please let me know what I can do to assist in bringing my son home quickly.” She glared at Teagan on her way out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Anora sighed and slumped back into her chair.

“I apologise, Your Majesty,” Teagan said, looking relieved as well. Ever since Eamon had died, he had been charged with caring for his older brother’s widow, which had been something of a challenge in diplomacy. She and Lady Kaitlyn did not get on well, so poor Teagan was assailed by Isolde in public and his wife in private. Anora did not know how he found time to run Redcliffe or assist her.

“Well, let us see what Nathaniel Howe had to say,” Anora said with a smile at the nobleman. Teagan handed her the envelope that the dark-haired Warden had given him to pass on to the Queen. She looked at it curiously for a moment before finally breaking the seal. She certainly didn’t expect to be receiving letters from Nathaniel Howe of all people. He seemed very happy in his role at the Warden Keep, however, when she’d seen him there a month previous. Anora glanced over the letter briefly and laughed.

“My Lady?” Teagan frowned.

“Oh, we could have saved ourselves some aggravation if we had read the letter before letting Isolde go on a tirade,” she said, handing it over to Teagan. He took the parchment and looked at it, reading aloud:

 _Greetings to Queen Anora Theirin from Acting Warden Commander Nathaniel Howe; 14th Kingsway, 9:38 Dragon Age._

 _My dear Lady,_

 _I regret to inform you that your young cousin, in fear for his delicate soul and life, has fled the Keep and made me promise on my pinky finger that I would not reveal his location to his mother. Therefore, I reveal it to you to do as you please with the information._

 _Connor has accompanied our dear Commander and Warden Fenris on a trip to Weisshaupt. The Commander will be gone for a few months on this journey, during which time I am acting Commander._

 _Therefore, he is currently on a ship heading for Cumberland, after which he will be with a caravan heading to Vol Dorma, and then a small retinue to Weisshaupt. I have the utmost confidence in Warden Fenris’ ability to keep both of them out of too much trouble._

 _Yours Sincerely,  
Nathaniel_

 _P.S. Please tell Teagan I am sorry._

Teagan sighed loudly and covered his face with one hand. He gave the letter back to Anora, who was snickering gently. She folded the letter and placed it onto the table next to her.

“It seems Nathaniel Howe has found a sense of humour since the last time I really spoke to him,” she said with some amusement.

“He could have saved me an entire coach ride of scolding,” Teagan said with another dramatic sigh.

“I don’t think we should tell Isolde,” Anora told him, raising her eyebrows, her blue eyes still twinkling with amusement.

“Maker no, she’d want me to go after him!” Teagan exclaimed, looking almost horrified at the thought. He certainly didn’t want to go traipsing to Weisshaupt on the cusp of late autumn, chasing after a grown boy. Teagan shook his head and sat down across from the Queen, smiling at her as she laughed again, glad to see her cheerful.

“So have you heard anything from Orlais yet?” he asked finally, his face growing serious. It had been a little over two weeks since the last ship had been launched, it would have arrived to Val-Royeux by now, or within the next day or so if it ran into any problems.

“I have received a few communications,” Anora said, turning her gaze toward the window. “Nothing official, but I’ve been informed that Celene was very angry, and the Divine appeared to be quite surprised.”

“Really? You haven’t received anything at all?” Teagan looked surprised, he had truthfully expected something to come immediately following the landing of the first batch of Templars. It was something of a relief that nothing had happened, though it made him nervous, waiting for what would happen.

“I expect either the Divine had no idea that her templars were really Orlesian soldiers in disguise and is rather put out with Celene, or she’s planning an Exalted March to come reclaim the birthplace of Andraste and her ashes from the filthy heathen Fereldens.”

“I imagine they will not leave us for long. If they do nothing at all, others may follow suit when the news spreads.”

“The new has already spread,” Anora said, standing up. “Not only have all the ambassadors in the palace reported back to their own governments on what happened by this time, I have my own storyteller out there making sure it is well chronicled.”

Anora smirked and crossed her arms looking down at Teagan.

“If all goes well, Celene will be having a very angry Divine on her hands, and the Divine will be having a religious revolution on hers.”


	5. A Gift

_To Her Royal Majesty, Empress Celene I,_

 _Your presence is requested by Divine Justinia V this evening to discuss the situation in Ferelden. Knight-Vigilant Bretodeau will also be present._

 _In the Light,  
Sylvia Boudouin  
Assistant to Divine Justinia V_

 _To Her Holiness, Divine Justinia V,_

 _I regret to inform you that Her Royal Majest, Empress Celene I, will be unable to attend upon Her Holiness due to a prior engagement._

 _Regretfully,  
Jean Trudeau  
Secretary to Empress Celene I_

Varric snorted at the two pieces of paper in his hand, looking at them both with amusement before putting them to the side to find the meat of the problem that he’d managed to get ahold of.

He uncrumpled a few papers that had been balled and flattened them onto the table in front of him, studying them carefully. Truthfully, it seemed that neither the Divine or the Empress seemed to hold Anora’s ability to create an Intelligence Network in high esteem. All the more easy for him, he thought with a small grin. He had already sorted these notes and crumpled papers from the pile he’d had brought to him daily. They were the ones that weren’t about trade, Grey Wardens, or Tevinter. He kept those missives, of course, for later perusal, but his immediate concern was anything to do with the current Templar-Ferelden situation.

“Ah ha!” Varric said aloud, flattening the paper in front of him more, hoping it was still legible.

 _My dear Celene,_

 _This situation with Ferelden is dire. They cannot be allowed to ignore the Chantry so blatantly. Sending their templars back with the accusations that they were disguised Orlesian soldiers? It is ridiculous. I believed that Anora was more intelligent than this. She has shown no previous inclination of disregard for the Chantry. Something needs to be done before anyone else thinks they can do the same. We cannot let this go unpunished!_

 _Dominique agrees with me that the accusations the Ferelden Queen has levelled at us are ridiculous. That a Knight Commander would knowingly accept disguised templars into his care is preposterous. The fact that Gerald is being held as a prisoner in the Warden Keep at Amaranthine is an insult to his station and to our confidence in his abilities and our approval of Grand Cleric Helena’s appointment of him after the death of Knight Commander Greagoir. Let alone that they would accuse him of killing and pillaging peasants and attacking Grey Wardens._

 _Ferelden must be kept in line, the birthplace of Andraste, the location of Her Ashes. It must be kept under the control of the Chantry, and with no templars to support her, Grand Cleric Helena is at the mercy of the Queen._

 _I await your reponse,  
Justinia_

 _Your Majesty,_

 _I have just been in conference with the Divine. She is willing to believe that this is an insanity that Anora has perpetrated to remove Orlesian influence from Ferelden soil. Gerald is probably a lost cause, he obviously revealed too much already to that mangy turnip. He’ll need dealt with at soonest possibility, though I imagine getting someone into Vigil’s Keep will be difficult. Crows?_

 _Your servant,  
D.B._

“Hrm.” Varric frowned as he looked the two messages over. The Divine, obviously had no idea what was going on, and seemed content to remain in the dark somewhat. This D.B. and Celene, however, appeared to be preparing to get Gerald killed, if only so he could not corroborate anything that Anora had said to the Divine.

D.B. was in Val-Royeux apparently, or they wouldn’t be able to wait upon the Divine and send letters quickly afterwards to the Empress. These notes were going to need sent to Anora as insurance in case something happened to Gerald. Zevran was already part of the way to Halamshiral, so he was out of the picture.

The question was how to get these letters to Anora without anything happening to them. He had no illusions that anyone was reading and stealing _his_ mail, but anything sent to Anora may get intercepted, and could not be hidden with a cipher.

Varric tapped his chin idly while he thought, eyes gazing blankly across the room. Flowers, vase, chairs, rug, paintings, books.

The dwarf stood up and crossed the room thoughtfully, his eyes on the painting. He pulled the frame from the wall and turned it over, looking at the back. A small smile crinkled at his eyes as he carried it to the table.

Anora would appreciate a gift, wouldn’t she?


	6. The Job

“What are your qualifications?”

Zevran smiled his most charming smile at the woman in front of him, which seemed to make her blush slightly around the ears, but she was trying to stay professional.

“I have experience working for the late Arl Eamon Guerrin of Redcliffe and his lovely wife, Arlessa Isolde. I worked as a manservant and footman for them,” Zevran said, pulling some parchment out of his bag and handing them over to the woman.

“My references,” he said, his fingers barely brushing against hers as he handed it over.

She took the letter and glanced through it with a nod, though most of her attention seemed to remain on Zevran’s fingers, even when they had pulled away from her. She flushed again and waved the paper a little, fanning herself slightly.

“It’s very warm for this time of the year, no?” she said, watching him with a coy look from the corner of her eyes.

Zevran grinned a little wolfishly and leaned in close to her, laying one hand on her shoulder, his lips just brushing the shell of her ear.

“Then perhaps you should remove some layers. It may help you cool down a little,” he said, his voice a little rough. He could see the paper in her hand beginning to move faster as she fanned herself more, the woman’s breathing coming in short gasps.

“There are many ties and laces to undo. It would be much work to remove them alone...”

He saw a flash of brown as she turned her eyes to meet his briefly and he almost laughed aloud - this was too easy. Zevran calculated her again briefly before replying. An older woman, matronly, and married to a buffoon. She wanted someone she could boss around. He gave her his best ‘innocent schoolboy’ face.

“I am not familiar with all the buckles and do-dahs of a lady’s layers... perhaps with guidance, however, I could assist?”

“Perhaps that could be arranged,” she purred at him, and gestured toward the partially-opened door. Zevran kissed her knuckles gently, his eyes trained on hers before releasing her to close the door.

 _I am completely awesome. This is almost too easy._

~

 _Have gotten job in the Duchess’ household. Will send information as I receive it._

 _E.V. is Etienne Vipond - he converses with our Duchess regularly._

 _~Z._

Varric snorted and put the letter down. That was three down. Etienne Vipond he would have to investigate, but Duchess Yvonne was in charge of the lands closest to Ferelden not including Jader, so it would have been imperative to have her cooperation to get any soldiers across the border without alerting anyone, including the Divine.

He rubbed his face lightly and pulled out a piece of parchment. So the Knight-Vigilant herself was in on this, one noble, one unknown, and one set of initials. He didn’t feel they were doing as well as they could be.

Then again, he had not had years of cultivating relationships and networks in Val-Royeux to draw upon like he had in Kirkwall. It was somewhat frustrating.

The big question was now what was going to happen? Were they going to try again? Were there disguised templars in other countries? Could they make allies among those countries by providing that information? What about the Chantry and the Divine. She obviously had no idea what Celene was doing, and was Celene using that? An Exalted March to bring Ferelden in line for their heresy and mage sympathising, and the Empress picks up some extra land in the process?

Varric never did like working under pressure like this. This would have been much easier if he’d had more than four months to start his inquiries and did not have a possible war looming over his head if he didn’t succeed in a timely fashion.

 _Balls_ , as Anders would say.


	7. Teagan

“You sent for me, Your Majesty?”

“Yes Teagan. Please, close the door and take a seat,” she said, gesturing to a chair. It was time to let the Arl of Redcliffe in on some things. She probably should have spoken to him sooner about her suspicions, but now was not the time to worry about what should have been.

Teagan sat down where she indicated and frowned at her, obviously worried.

“For the past few months, Teagan, I have been monitoring the situation in Orlais. They have been ramping their armies, and preparing for something large. The incident in Kirkwall seems to have given Celene some sort of opening to put her plans into action.”

“You Majesty-”

“I know that people will think that I am being paranoid, Teagan. I know that many will whisper that I am taking the path of my father, but I believe my father was correct to be worried. I have here,” Anora passed a packet of letters, tied with ribbon, to Teagan, “some correspondance between my contacts in Orlais that confirm many of my suspicions. Also they have intercepted some correspondence between Orleasian nobles that leads me to believe that former Knight-Commander Gerald’s life may be in danger.”

Teagan untied the ribbon and looked at the first note with a frown.

“Why tell me all this now, Your Majesty?”

“I need you to go to Orzimmar. The Orlesians are coming through the mountains disguised at templars. Now that the templars have been expelled from Ferelden, I worry how they may try their next push. From what I can tell, Ferelden is definitely high on the Orlesian list of places to take first. My guess is that they will try to consolidate all their power on the southern part of the continent, using Denerim - as the birthplace of Andraste - and also Haven - where Her ashes rest - as ‘divine’ reason to try and sway some of the northern countries to allow Orlesian ‘assistance’ in the coming months. The mage circles are rebelling. The templars are fighting against the lyrium addiction the Chantry holds over them. I believe that many of the Free Marches cities, and possibly Nevarra, would be relieved if the Empress or the Divine decided to step in and ‘assist’ them.”

“What does Orzimmar have to do with this?” Teagan asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

“They are the only way through the mountains that the Orlesians have now. Through the Deep Roads, or the passes controlled by the Dwarven King. All other passes between Ferelden and Orlais were closed by me when the templars were expelled. I need King Harrowmont to understand the situation. Do not let him believe that the Dwarves will be allowed to remain sovereign if Orlais takes Ferelden. The Divine has been looking at their Stone worship for decades with distaste, and the mage rebellions are the only excuse she needs to claim the Dwarves are harbouring fugitives.”

Anora paced and gestured while she spoke. She needed to make sure Teagan understood, and did not think she was going mad.

“We also need access to the lyrium trade. If we can get our own supply line, separate from the Chantry’s control, we may be able to sway any templars that are on the fence to our side.”

“What about Gerald? You mentioned his life was in danger?”

“He knows too much, and I believe they wish to silence him before he can tell what he knows. If he finds out the Chantry has abandoned him and may be out to kill him, we may be able to get him to cooperate with us as I try to negotiate alliances with the Free Marches and the rest of the northern continent.”

“What about Jader, Your Majesty?”

“Redcliffe is the closest, Teagan,” Anora said, stopping her pacing and looking at him. He met her piercing blue gaze and nodded.

“I will put out a... discreet call to arms.”

“Good. I have already sent some men to secure Kinloch Hold again. We may be able to use it as a base of operations for that side of the country. It is defensible and a good place to keep soldiers.”

She moved to her desk and picked up a few sealed letters. Anora moved to him and after a moment’s hesitation, handed Teagan the letters.

“I need you to go by way of Amaranthine. Give this to Nathaniel. He is authorized to send any mages from the Keep with you that are willing to aid the army. He is always being warned of the possible attempt on Gerald’s life. I think that the Knight Commander will be safest in Grey Warden care until further notice. The other is for King Harrowmont, to aid in your mission. The final is a letter of proof - stating you are the head of my Army, and authorised to recruit, negotiate, and direct in my name as you see fit.”

Teagan took the letters with wide eyes, looking up at the young woman before him.

“I trust you Teagan. You have always been a good man, a good friend. I know you will do what is right and necessary,” she told him with a small smile.

Teagan stood and kneeled before the Queen.

“I shall endeavor to be worthy of the trust you have placed in me, Your Majesty,” he told her. Anora took his hand and helped him stand before giving him a gentle hug and kissing his cheek.

“Be careful, Uncle.”


	8. Amaranthine

“This is ridiculous.”

“We’re going to have to expand the city, my lord.”

“Varel, you know not to call me that,” Nathaniel snapped irritably, looking over the plans in his hand and then back up to the walls of Amaranthine. He squinted in the sunlight, gazing over the tents and hastily erected shacks of Free March refugees.

“Where’s Voldrik?”

“I’ll send for him, my lo-Comman-...Warden,” Varel said, looking exasperated at Nathaniel’s refusal to allow any title and stalked off to find the dwarf.

“You’re driving him mad, you know.”

Nathaniel looked up and scowled at the dark haired woman in front of him before looking back to the plans in his hand.

“I’m not cut out for this sort of thing.”

“You were meant to be, though, weren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows, amused.

“It doesn’t mean I’m inherently good at it, or that I have to like it,” he retorted.

“I suppose you have a point,” the woman replied turning to look at the city. “I would suggest expanding forward to wall in this area, housing and sanitation built for the refugees, and then a little on each side of the city.”

“But what do we do with all the people while the building is going on?” Nathaniel asked, turning the plans over his his hands and looking frustrated. “And the people at the Keep? We’re still rebuilding the homes and farms along the Highway.”

“Warden Nathaniel, Warden Cauthrien,” Voldrik called, approaching the two of them. “Varel said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes Voldrik,” Nathaniel said, thrusting the plans into the dwarf’s face. “Here. You make sense of this mess.”

Voldrik took the paper from the frustrated Warden and looked them over curiously. After a moment, he set the paper down onto the ground, smoothing it out and arranging it so they were looking at the city and the paper from the same angle.

“My suggestion, is that the city proper is too confined. It’s a small port town, never really expanding beyond the walls, as most of the people of Amaranthine are farmers or sailors. We should start on the western side of the city, expand the market district. Build shops and housing, and we can convert the old warehouses and shops into housing for the refugees. Then we can move them out of this area in front of the city and start building more housing here, and to the east we can expand the docks, more warehouses and some housing.”

“That sounds... reasonable, I think,” Nathaniel said, looking to Cauthrien for her opinion.

“Yes, that would be best. More shops and housing would open jobs and space up for the crafters that are currently sitting around in tents and shacks doing nothing.”

“And we could use the refugees as the workforce to start the construction,” Nathaniel pointed out. Building their own homes and walls would probably give them more reasons to stay and therefore more tax revenue to help pay for this expansion.

“Yes,” Voldrik agreed with a nod. “The only problem I foresee is that winter is coming, and the ground is too hard to start any real work.”

Nathaniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, of course. What to do with them in the meantime? Encourage them to go to Highever and Denerim? They’re probably already dealing with their own influx of refugees, though they may have more space... Maker, this is a mess.”

“What about that letter the Queen sent along with Arl Teagan?” Cauthrien said, frowning. “We could encourage some to go to Kinloch and sign up with the army?”

“I’m not sure many of them will do that,” Nathaniel said with a sigh. “These are Free Marchers. Anora is not their ruler. Though I suppose the offer of regular meals and a roof over their heads may lure some of them.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to put out the offer.” She shrugged and looked back up at the walls of the city. “You could put out the Warden recruiting offer as well.”

“No,” Nathaniel said, a little too quickly and sharply. “...I would not... Not... No.”

“You said yourself that we’re still replenishing our numbers, Nathaniel,” Cauthrien pointed out softly. “I am the first recruit this year, and it is already most of the way over.”

“This is not the time for this discussion,” he replied, picking up the plans and folding them carefully. “What can we start doing, Voldrik?”

“Stocking supplies I suppose. Anyone who can work a mine, chop wood. We can at least get the stone and wood supplies ready for spring to build as soon as possible.”

“Alright. We’ll put out a call for labourers to start the stockpiles, and the Queen’s call to arms. We’ll finish the farms, and hopefully it won’t snow again for a few weeks. I’ll see if there are any warehouses that are currently empty and start moving refugees into those to protect them from the weather. Cauthrien, can you find some healers? Anyone that can set a bone, sew stitches, etc... I’m sure we’ll have some disease and problems running rampant through the refugee camps soon. I want to be prepared.”

The dwarf and woman nodded to him. Cauthrien lingered a little, frowning at Nathaniel before he waved her away. When he was alone again, Nathaniel ran his hands over his face and sighed.

“Anders, you better get back soon. You’re supposed to be doing this.”


	9. Cleaning House

_V._

_Do whatever is necessary._

_~A._

Varric stared at the note for a long moment before finally tearing it into pieces and burning them in the fireplace. He had known she would say that, and the instructions for Birdie had already been sent.

They had to act now if they wanted to protect Ferelden from the coming storm. The latest news from the Grand Cathedral was that the Harlequin had returned and that the Divine was already amassing Templars for an Exalted March. The question was whether they would go to the heretical dog lords or the turbulent Free Marches first. The refugees had only barely begun to trickle into Orlais, most being turned away with a sniff before the ships could even dock. They were being forced to Ferelden, Nevarra, and Rivain. Tevinter had closed their borders, Antiva was enslaving anyone that could not defend themselves immediately, and not even the refugees were willing to make the trek through the mountains to get to the Anderfels.

They were lucky the Qunari weren’t hovering in the rafters waiting to take advantage. Hawke had settled that score with the death of the Arishok three years ago - the Qun was still recovering from that loss.

The Empress was going to push for Ferelden first, he was sure. The expulsion of the templars was much more serious than the open mage rebellions in the Free Marches right now, and the Divine would have to be an idiot not to consolidate the southern continent with all of their religious sites before moving on the rebellious mages. 

Varric was quite sure Orlais had no idea how bad it really was in the Free Marches, as was indicated by their utter refusal to acknowledge refugees. It was like a tea party in Orlais, while the world was burning outside. It wouldn’t take long for Tevinter to start making forays into the Free Marches to reclaim some of their lost lands if Orlais decided to play patty-cake with Anora.

He sighed and looked at his room with resignation. He was going to need to move. If the Harlequin was half as good as Zevran had indicated she was, it wouldn’t take her long to track his movements back to this room.

Perhaps setting up as a legitimate businessman in the dwarven district would be a good idea. It would be easier for him to hide there, and still keep an eye on the Empress. Varric rubbed his hands together in anticipation before slinging Bianca onto his back. He had some work to do, and very little time to do it in.


	10. Grey Wardens

“As long as they haven’t gotten lost, killed, kidnapped by slavers, or caught in a battle somewhere, they should be in Tevinter by now,” Nathaniel said, leaning over his desk and poking the map. “If not in Vol Dorma already. Anders told me he’d send a message when they reached Vol Dorma, which will probably get here in two weeks or more.”

“Please let me know as soon as you hear anything.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Nathaniel straightened, smiling at the Queen.

“I know that Wardens are supposed to stay out of the politics of a country, Nathaniel, but in giving the Wardens the Arling of Amaranthine, they are inexorably tied to the welfare of Ferelden now.”

The archer nodded, though his eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty, I am aware that as the Arl of Amaranthine, we are subject to the Crown’s Will as long as it does not interfere with our primary functions.”

“I fear the world will soon interfere with all Grey Wardens, Nathaniel.” He watched Anora stand and move to the window overlooking the courtyard.

“What do you mean?”

“I have... information. Orlais was planning an Exalted March into Ferelden.”

“Was?”

She smiled slightly and looked away from the window for a moment, her blue eyes locking on him. “A number of the Empress' key advocates to that plan are now, or shortly will be, dead. This will force the Divine and the Empress to focus on the turmoil in the Free Marches for a short while, at least.”

He remained silent, but took a seat. The Queen had his full attention.

“With the Circle of Magi rebelling across the northern continent, I do not think it will be long before the Chantry turns its eyes to the Grey Wardens. They have tolerated you in the past because you fight the Darkspawn, but there is no Blight now, and there are many mages among your ranks. Wardens do not turn anyone away, and I fear that what happened here with Ser Gerald will begin to happen elsewhere.”

Nathaniel nodded, and leaned back in his chair.

“I think the First Warden is aware of this, and that is why he had sent for the Commander. I would not be surprised to learn that the Commanders in the other Grey Warden strongholds had also been called back to Weisshaupt - I do know for a fact that the Orlesian Commander left Orlais a few weeks ago.”

She turned away from the window completely now, hands clasped together in front of her as she spoke. “In some places, the Wardens may even find the locals rising against them. Anders defused the situation here, but the people here have been under Grey Warden administration for close to a decade already. I have already begun to hear complaints from some of the southern Banns about Warden influence and the Right of Conscription.”

Anora waved a dismissive hand at his raised eyebrow. “There isn’t any serious threat, they dislike that the mages are roaming free, and that the templars are gone, and blame the Wardens at the moment, but it’s mostly only the southern Teyrnling. They’ll get over it. The point is that if those that were directly affected by the Blight and the Wardens rescuing them from it are grumbling, you can imagine what the northern countries who have not seen the Blight firsthand in over three hundred years are going to be saying about an organisation that not only allows mages into their ranks, but lets them wander around without templar supervision.”

“Yes, I see your point Your Majesty, but-”

“What I’m trying to get at Nathaniel, is that Ferelden is currently the only safe haven in the world for mages - wardens or not. I need you, no... I request that you send missives to the other Warden outposts. Let them know the situation here. Let them know that if there are problems, we will accept them should they need somewhere to go. I have already sent messages to the First Warden stating the same thing, though I am unsure if he has received those letters yet.”

She sighed and sat down across from him. “I do not believe that even Weisshaupt will be exempt from what is to come, Nathaniel. The Chantry is very strong in the Anderfels.”


	11. Epilogue: Zevran

_“I heard her lover was jealous and poisoned her.”_

_“No, it was a maid. The Duchess had seduced her husband.”_

_“Good riddance if you ask me.”_

_“No, there were two bodies. The mayor of Jader was there too.”_

_“What is his name again?”_

_“Something Vipond. Mayor Vipond and Duchess Cousteau.”_

_“I heard they were lovers.”_

_“Perhaps he killed her in jealousy of another man and then killed himself?”_

_“How romantic!”_

Zevran chuckled softly to himself as he listened to the gossip around the fountain. The small Orlesian town was bustling with the news of the deaths, and barely had attention to spare for the tanned elf looking for a wagon to Jader.

He sat in the sun, enjoying the warmer weather of the Orlesian coast while it still lasted. The snow had already come by the time he’d left Halamshiral, reminding him how soon winter came in the southern countries.

“Lovely day.”

Zevran opened his eyes to find a woman looking down at him. She spoke the Trade tongue with a Ferelden accent and smiled strangely at him before seating herself next to him on the edge of the fountain.

“Yes, it is very lovely for the time of year, no? I hope to enjoy it while it lasts.” He flashed a grin at her, white teeth against dark skin.

“I should think that perhaps moving north would keep you warmer for a while. East only brings mountains and snow,” she said. Zevran’s smile remained in place, though his eyes narrowed slightly at her comment. The woman was older, probably fifty years old. Her hair was grey and lank about her face, though her eyes were a bright amber brown colour. She wore plain peasant clothing.

It was then that he realised the square was suddenly silent. Not even the trickle of water from the fountain. No birds, no ocean. Zevran’s eyes shifted quickly around noting the frozen positions of all the people he’d been listening to.

“Who are you?”

“Montefort. That is your next destination, little blackbird,” she said with a smile. Her eyes suddenly seemed more golden now than before, reminding him of another powerful woman he had known years ago.

“What do you know of my destinations?”

“Nevarra,” was all she said as she stood up.

The sounds all came back suddenly, making him wince slightly as it assaulted his ears.

The woman was gone.


End file.
